


herbarium

by discopolice



Category: Wakfu
Genre: Character Study, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-04-26 16:11:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14405754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discopolice/pseuds/discopolice
Summary: Thoughts on life, the universe, and everything from an Eliatrope patriarch.





	1. motion.

**Author's Note:**

> "As the Goddess is crying for her world, an Eliatrope can collect her tears like sugar cubes. Can you find them all?"  
> also like sugar cubes, here's a place for all this chibi poetry that keeps falling out of my keyboard

the birth of a universe as an egg  
the birth of an egg as a union  
the birth of motion as wakfu, wakfu as  
motion, from the square towards the inviting  
warmth of the fire, the futon, the stops  
in-between  
nothing in-between but your hair, now,  
collision, you, me, goddess, dragon,  
motion, like She spoke:  
lips part, cloth parts, thighs part  
soul parts, soul gives, becomes one  
a fingerprint my soul cannot forget  
your spine my compass, i chart the land  
and, too, the water  
land, water, blood, hands roaming  
grasp, yell, gasp for air in the space between  
pitch-black - blue - purple - red  
squeezed by your surrounding gravity,  
inalienable - irresistible - inescapable  
the krosmoz collapses and becomes a thin white line


	2. adventurer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL KNOW WHAT THIS IS

i do not have Memory, not like you  
but i am a creature of wakfu forever imprinted;  
your fingerprint presses into my soul again and again,  
your words, unique as the grooves in your skin.  
like the Goddess and the Dragon, we part,  
like the Goddess and the Dragon, we meet,  
never separated, two ends of an ever-swinging pendulum.

i am no scientist, not like you  
but I have counted the spaces between your ribs;  
twenty-two, each a cradle for my fingertips,  
each as warm and welcoming as your smile itself.  
the shudders in your breath, i count too:  
one, five, infinite tiny imperfections i place upon you  
but perhaps losing count is not so bad.

i do not remember these stars, not like you  
but I see your mark on each and every one;  
a sky speckled with legacy, a forest of movement,  
a sea of planets where our footsteps have intersected.  
you are power, plasma, wakfu in its rawest form  
and i am a body in a Goddess-gifted orbit  
Bound to your being by an inalienable gravity.

i am no adventurer, not like you  
but to see the world by your side seems to me  
vast and wondrous, in a way i cannot describe–  
except by lacing our fingers like a mantra  
and standing atop this Krosmoz hand in hand  
with our People as our witness.


	3. riddle.

who am i?  
ink, ink on paper, yawning bluish-black  
feathering along this old, dead tree's veins  
until it is not a word, but a jagged imitation:  
loosely aware of my own impermanence, but clinging  
in the hopes that someone will hear my voice

who am i?  
a ten-fingered beast, gold and bright-eyed  
poking holes through the atmosphere's loose weave  
descending for just a moment, then touching land  
only to chase back through that atmospheric maze  
grasping at bliss i know i cannot keep

who am i?  
not zero, not one, the glass between  
what is real and what is beyond, a concave surface  
focusing a sunbeam from the top of a mountain  
towards trees that have waited a thousand years:  
looked through, but not myself seen  
who am i?

(a fool?)


End file.
